


Everyone Ships Us Anyway

by Summer785



Category: Chase Atlantic (Band)
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27451300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer785/pseuds/Summer785
Summary: One night at the end of a party, the sexual tension gets too much and things turn in a new direction ;-)
Relationships: Christian Anthony/Mitchel Cave, Manthony
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Everyone Ships Us Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Manthony from CA. TOTALLY FICTIONAL. I know NOTHING about these people's lives, familes, history, friends, activities or preferences. I just used their names, and a vague sense of their aesthetic, after seeing a super hot picture of these guys kissing on stage. This idea just popped into my mind, I do not know why. Purely for fictional purposes!! Credits if you catch The OC reference! :-)

Mitty ran his hand over his face and up into his hair, before dropping his head forwards and yawning hard. It was time to call it a night, he thought dazedly, stubbing out the cigarette he’d just lit in the ashtray beside him. His head was still spinning slightly from all the champagne earlier, but tiredness was kicking in now, the adrenaline drained away leaving a rush of exhaustion. Pushing himself up to his feet, he picked up his wallet and phone, stuffing them both into his jacket pocket before ambling into the kitchen to get a glass of water, wondering where the others were. He didn’t recognise anyone that was still lingering in the huge house, probably record execs or from PR, everyone else having left or hit the sack.

Following some loud voices and laughter to the lower level, he found Clint in the middle of a game of pool with Jesse, both of them in hysterics and plainly rolling drunk.

‘Hey Clint, you seen Kras? Where the fuck did he go?’ Mitty asked, realising he hadn’t seen his BFF for what felt like hours now.

‘Nah mate. Actually yeah, hang on – he was rolling on a bed with that wannabee Volchok guy a while back – somewhere up there’.

‘Rolling – what?’ Mitty stared at his brother, wondering if he’d heard him right. Something dropped down low in his stomach, making his breath catch weirdly in his throat. He gripped the door frame beside him with his free hand, purely for something concrete to hang on to.

‘Yeah, something like that. The dude was “Into It”’ Clint said with exaggerated air quotes, sniggering at his own joke, before lining up an easy shot, missing the pocket completely and exchanging a loose high five with Jesse, both of them in fits.

‘Which dude was into it?’ Mitty demanded, his voice coming out louder than he expected. He cleared his throat when both guys turned to look at him, ‘I mean – WTF’ he tailed off lamely, not missing the grin that passed between his brother and Jesse.

‘Better go get him bro’, Clint muttered, grinning like a maniac as Jesse lined up his next shot, took it and missed it completely, the white ball rebounding hard off the other end of the pool table. Both of them collapsed in uncontrollable laughter, clutching their stomachs with tears rolling.

Mitty flipped them off, turning to go, his thoughts only of finding Kras. ‘You tell him what’s up Mit!’ Jesse shouted after him, joined by Clints yell of ‘yeah you tell him good!’. Their laughter trailed into the background as Mitty jogged up the stairs, all thoughts of tiredness forgotten. He downed the glass of water he was holding before setting it on a side table on the landing, ditching his jacket, and stopping to listen at the nearest closed bedroom door. A sound from the next level caught his attention and he was half way up the stairs when a buff surfer dude with a shaved head, tats and a vest pushed past him, unsmiling as he shrugged on a hoody. Christ, he really does look like Volchok, Mitty thought with a smirk – pretty hot, if he wasn’t looking so pissy.

The door at the top of the stairs was open, and Mitty peered into the dimly lit room, recognising Lana Del Rey on the stereo. Kras was sprawled face down on the bed in just his old baggy jeans, his arm hanging off to look at his phone which he was holding on the floor. Mitty admired the view for a second; his bare back was toned as fuck, all the hours surfing at Venice were paying off. The tan didn’t hurt either, the white strip above the low line of his boxers visible even in the dim light.

‘Hey’, Mitty said softly from the doorway, feeling slightly weird about intruding on whatever the fuck THAT was. Kras rolled over, looking up at him with huge eyes, his pupils almost totally black. His face was flushed, the front of his long hair tangled. He looked exactly like he would after sex, Mitty thought with a hard swallow. Had he had sex with that guy? Was that what Clint meant by ‘rolling around?’ Mitty knew that he had to know.

‘So you been up here a while?’ he said softly, coming further into the room.

Kras patted the bed beside him and Mitty sank down gratefully onto it, scooting up it until he was lying on his back, half sitting up against the pillows.

‘You mean with that Volchok dude?’ Kras said with a smirk, closing one eye as he cocked his head to the side, watching Mitty intensely.

‘Did you?’ Mitty asked bluntly, looking right back at him, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice. There were no secrets between them, that’s just the way it had always been. Growing up with someone just made things that way. He’d been by Kras’ side through literally everything, every high and every bump and bend in the road. He’d seen him screaming and jumping for joy when their second single went to number one on TripleJ. He’d seen him crying his heart out on the bathroom floor when his cousin was killed in a car crash when he was 15, unable to do anything with the grief other than cling desperately to Mitty until neither of them had any tears left to cry. He’d seen him too high to function, and too gutted over some girl to eat anything for a week. Jada Jones, that bitch.

But, he’d never seen him do anything sexual with another man, apart from the hugs and kisses he accepted from Mitty himself. And if they sometimes lingered that second too long, enough to raise an eyebrow or cause a friend to nudge one of their other mates and stare, it was never mentioned, that’s just the way it was and as far he could tell, everyone knew it.

Kras took a deep breath, breaking the eye contact and biting his lip. It was adorable, almost too much. Mitty dropped his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes, wanting to block out the image. Block out _all_ of the images, of what may have _literally_ just happened exactly where he was sitting.

‘I – I thought about it’. Kras said quietly, fiddling with the sheet, smoothing it out with his hand.

‘You did?’ Mitty asked in surprise, looking back at his friend. Shit, he was _blushing_ – Kras _never_ blushed. Not even when Clint had caught him getting a blow job from the press officer in the back of the van. He’d merely shrugged and laughed it off afterwards, having grabbed a cushion off the bench to protect Amanda’s modesty at the time.

‘Yeah’ Kras whispered, and he looked up at Mitty then, right up at him from under his eyelashes in a way he never had before.

It made Mittys stomach twist, hard; the bolt of adrenaline hitting him in a way that felt exactly like lust. He swallowed, suddenly insanely aware of their closeness on the bed. On the bed, for fucks sake – could a man be blamed if his thoughts were starting to wander, to what would surely only be a dangerous place?

‘I – why didn’t you?’ Mitty asked, his voice coming out in a gruff, strangled way that sounded like he was going through puberty again at the age of 25.

‘I’m open to it. I just want it to be with the right person. He wasn’t it’. Kras’ voice was low, his fingers on the sheet moving slowly, gravitating towards Mitty’s bare arm lying next to him, until if he focussed, Mitty could feel the movement of the sheet against his skin, where Kras was stroking it.

Mitty felt as if time was moving in slow motion. They stared at each other for a moment, Kras’ eyes hazy, his teeth still biting his lip in that utterly maddening way. Without thinking about it, Mitty reached forward and gently freed the bottom lip with his thumb, letting the cup of his hand rest softly against the underside of Kras’ chin. Kras caught his breath, his eyes going wide in a way that made Mittys heart pound frantically in his chest, and before he registered what the fuck was happening, Kras had closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against his.

It was different – so different to their usual touches. There was an urgency or some shit behind it that was totally, utterly new.

Mitty had approximately 2 seconds to realise this before instinct took over and he wrapped his free hand into Kras’ hair, pulling him closer, feeling the soft wetness of his tongue against his own and hearing the moan that one of them made in their throat, not even knowing who made it. He felt heaviness against him then; hot skin under his hands, the slide and ripple of back muscles as Kras pushed him down into the bed with his weight, and holy fuck their hips pressed together, _really_ pressed together. His hands moved blindly downwards, grabbing and pulling and _grinding_ until he was seeing stars, feeling the hot slide of Kras’ mouth against his jaw, his neck, up to his ear and then on the insanely sensitive skin of his ear lobe, causing him to gasp and moan Kras’ name, utterly lost in whatever the fuck was happening.

He reached up, wound both his hands tight into Kras’ long hair and _pulled_ , which drew a guttural gasp of ‘ _fuck_ ’ from his friend that he knew he’d never forget. He did it again, his eyes closed and head thrown back, unable to hold back the base instinct to thrust his hips up, desperate for friction.

He felt the world shift and then he was being pulled lower down the bed, Kras sitting up as he straddled Mitty’s legs, just below the crotch of his sweats, effectively pinning him down. Mitty made a frustrated whining noise that frankly he was not proud of, opening one eye to look up at Kras, finding him staring down at him with a shit eating grin. His cheeks were a burnished red, his lips pink and swollen, the front of his hair dark with sweat. Mitty could only grip the thighs straddling his and stare back at him, lost in his gaze.

He knew he must look like he’d been fucked seven ways to Sunday already, he could feel the heat in his own face and neck, knowing it reached down his chest as well, the curse of pale skin. As if reading his mind, Kras ran his hands up his stomach and ribs, pulling his t-shirt along with his hands until it was around his armpits, indicating for Mitty to sit up slightly so he could yank it off. It took a bit of wrestling to finally get the tight top over Mittys head, leaving both of them breathless and giggling.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Kras fiddling around with his hair, wondering vaguely what he was doing until he felt nimble fingers pulling slightly at his braids and then they were being deftly unravelled, his hair fluffing around his face as Kras gently ran his fingers through the loose waves, his fingertips massaging the scalp where the braids had pulled it tight. It was absolute bliss and he couldn’t hold back from closing his eyes and tilting his head back on the pillow, his breath catching as he felt Kras lean down and touch his lips and teeth to the pulse point on his neck, making his hips jerk and his back arch right off the bed.

Mitty reached up, palming the sides of Kras’ ribs, flexing his own arm muscles as he pulled Kras down against him, gasping out loud as their bare chests pressed all the way together. Being skin to skin was electrifying, he could only hang on tight and feel the banging of both their hearts, as if one wanted to jump out and meet the other.

For a few moments they just laid there, breathing erratically and trying to catch their breath. Eventually Mitty loosened his hold and started to explore Kras’ body, running his hands up and down his back and sides, across his shoulders and pressing slowly down his spine, then back up it into the damp hair at the nape of his neck. There was so much bare skin, but still it felt like not enough. He kept going until could feel Kras start to lose it on top of him, his breath coming in gasps and his hips writhing harder against his own. He pulled his face away from where it rested in Mittys neck and kissed him, this time there was no holding back. It was as if Mittys very soul was being pulled out of him and laid bare on the bed.

His hands ran down, his nails scraping down Kras’ back before he gripped the waistband of his jeans with both hands, wanting nothing more than to just rip them off. Kras pulled up and rolled them over so that he was lying on his back, pulling Mitty hard against his side and lifting his hips up, wriggling frantically until the loose jeans were half way down his legs. His hands moved to the waistband of Mittys own sweats and they got them both off within seconds, winding their bare legs together with a groan of pleasure.

‘F-fuck’ Mitty stammered as Kras rolled on top of him again, grinding his erection down against his own through their underwear. He opened his legs slightly and Kras pushed his rock hard thigh between them, using the leverage to keep on grinding against him, his eyes rolled back in his head and incoherent moaning noises in his throat showing how far gone he was already. Things were moving fast to the point of no return, when there was a sudden, loud yell right outside the open door.

‘For fucks sake you two, keep it down!’ It was Clint, the sound of his explosion of laughter trailing away as he ran back down the stairs.

They froze for a moment, staring at each other, their faces inches apart. Kras broke first, snorting with laughter and collapsing down on top of him, his shoulders shaking as he tried to control himself. Mitty wound his hands up into Kras hair again and lost it himself, suddenly struck by the absurdity of the situation, the two of them mindlessly grinding on each other in their underwear in front of the entire house.

‘Shit’, he gasped, rubbing his hands over his eyes. ‘Guess we could have shut the door’.

‘Fuck it’, Kras murmured, unable to hide the smile in his voice. ‘Everyone ships us anyway. We’re just doing what should have happened a long time ago, right?’.

‘Really?’ Mitty questioned, pushing up slightly to look him in the eyes, hardly daring to hope that he meant it.

Kras’ smile was blinding, as he gently tucked a piece of Mittys newly released and frizzy hair behind his ear.

‘Fuck yeah’ he confirmed, his eyes glinting dangerously. ‘So, where were we…’

Mitty pushed him off, wriggling out from under him.

‘I’m closing the door first, that’s my brother’ he shrugged, padding over to it after bending down and pulling off his socks.

He turned around and leant against the locked door for a second, biting his lip as he stared at Kras, sprawled across the bed, flushed and in total disarray, staring right back at him from under his lashes again. Silently, Mitty pushed his boxers down, kicking them off with an evil grin before jumping back onto the bed, his laughter swallowed by Kras tackling him down with a kiss.


End file.
